


life from the ashes

by aeruh



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: :), Dragonriders AU, Fantasy AU, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, SHEITH - Freeform, basically Voltron but there’s dragons, because the author likes dragons, this was an excuse to practice worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 12:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17162201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeruh/pseuds/aeruh
Summary: Keith is a fire mage. Unfortunately, it isn’t exactly a booming business. Olkarion holds some opportunities for him, though—or at least, it was supposed to before he ends up finding himself in some sort of storybook quest. Keith isn’t quite on board with it until he finds an egg. A very large, very red, genuine dragon egg. Suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad.





	life from the ashes

“Luxite! Finest knife you’ll ever carry! You’ll never want fer another blade again!”

Keith peered over the selection laid out on the stand. They were all nice knives. He wasn’t an expert by any means, but he could appreciate a beautiful blade.

The vendor crossed his arms, and Keith couldn’t help but notice how tense he seemed. 

_I’m not going to run off with one,_ he thought. _Promise._

“Ya look like a smart young man,” the man said, trying all too hard to appear casual. “I’m sure ya could use a good knife, eh?”

Keith gestured to the sheathed tool at his side, almost hidden under the bag over his shoulder. “Thanks, but... I think I’m good already. Actually, I’m just looking for directions.”

In response, the vendor gave a noncommittal grunt, but let his arms fall to his side. He put his suspicion aside just enough to turn his attention to polishing one of the knives on display even though it already gleamed silver. “S’ppose I could give ya a little help, fer a price.”

A look of dismay crossed Keith’s face before he could stop it. 

_I keep forgetting,_ he thought. _Everything costs something else around here. It’s so much more complicated being surrounded by other people._

Reaching for the coin purse he had tucked away under his red coat, Keith produced two coins in his hand—an iron piece and a copper piece. He pressed them against the vendor’s table and the sound was muted by the cloth.

“I’m looking for a place called Olkarion, but I’m not from around here. Have you heard of it?”

The vendor laughed, and he pocketed the coins. “Everyone an’ their mother knows about Olkarion. Just how far away are ya from?”

“Far enough for you not to recognize the name of it if I told you,” Keith answered evasively. “How far is Olkarion from here?”

“‘S only about a two day’s walk from here, south. If ya keep going down this road and then left past th’ tavern, you’ll find another marketplace. Always wagon parties down there, lookin’ to hire mercenaries. If ya talk to some of ‘em, I’m sure they won’t mind ya tagging along behind.”

The vendor pointed a gloved hand to the other side of the plaza. Keith followed the way it showed and made a mental note of his advice. Once the other man was done speaking, Keith turned to give him a smile that he hoped was warm enough. Facial expressions were never his forte.

“Thank you,” Keith told him. “That’s the most help I’ve been able to find around here since I first got past the gates.”

His words pleased the vendor, even though he tried to to let it show. “Ah, well, that’s Arus for ya. War is brewin’. Any drunk at the inn’ll tell ya that. Folk keep to themselves in times like this, even in a big city.”

Though Keith didn’t have much experience in the big, wide world, he hardly thought most people would consider Arus to be a _big city._ But the vendor’s words were true enough; most people in town had looked at Keith like he was about to snatch their oldest child and purse and steal away into the forest. His appearance was far from nobility—red coat, black pants, boots, and a black shirt that was more holes than cloth—but still. Keith wasn’t a thief.

He was much more than that.

He and the vendor exchanged a few more words, and then Keith waved a hand in thanks and followed the direction he’d been told. Down the road, left past the tavern—it was a little bit of a walk after that, and the road narrowed to an alley. Soon enough it opened up to the plaza Keith had been told about, and he could immediately spot a fair amount of wagon caravans littered around the place.

He looked up at the sky. Fall had begun to spread its wings, and the sky was already getting dark. Keith needed to find someone willing to put up with his presence soon, if he didn’t want to spend another night on his own in the cold. 

_Well, then,_ Keith thought, shouldering his bag. _Time to get to work._

Which was easier said than done. A lot easier said than done. In theory, of course, it should work out well—you find a group traveling south that are looking for some extra protection. You show them a little bit magic. It doesn’t have to be anything big. Maybe just a ball of fire in your palm. 

“This,” you tell them, “is only a taste of what I can do.”

Of course, they’ll be amazed. Mages are hard to find nowadays. And magic means protection. They’ll invite you to join them, and you’ll be able to have a hot supper for the first time in more nights than you can count. Fires are dangerous when you’re on your own, you know. They’re practically a signal for anything miles around that has half a mind to do you in. Safety in groups, and all that. There’s something cruelly ironic in being a fire mage and not even being able to keep yourself warm at night.

In theory, at least, this would have been the last night you’d have to worry about being attacked by anything looking for an easy meal. But unfortunately, things hardly go the way they should. 

Magic being rare means people didn’t understand it. And if they didn’t understand it, then that means they were afraid of it. 

More often than not, if Keith was lucky he ended up with nothing to show for his effort. If the gods weren’t on his side that day—and usually they liked to turn their backs on him—then he’d walk away with a few more bruises, some death wishes, and less weight in his purse. Tonight seemed like it was time for him to try again.

The first two caravans threatened to beat his teeth in if he showed his face near them again. Threats along those lines lost most their sting ages ago, but Keith didn’t doubt they rang with a little bit of truth and he was quick to move on. The third one was more terrified than anything and tried to pay _him_ half a silver piece to leave. Keith didn’t take their money, but he left all the same.

Number four was the last one, and at that point Keith had basically given up. The sky was turning sunset red, and the area was beginning to empty out—travelers foolish enough to follow the roads past sundown, people finding an inn for the night, men and women going home to their families. But Keith figured he might as well. Never do something halfway, right?

“Excuse me,” Keith said, as he straightened his shoulders and approached the man closest to him. The stranger was turned, his face hidden. “I’m looking for a caravan headed south, towards Olkarion. I can offer you coin and protection—”

The man turned to look at him then, and Keith suddenly found that his words were stuck in his throat.

He was tall, and broad-shouldered. Keith could tell that much when his back was still turned, but it was another thing entirely when the man was looking at him. He had gray eyes and the forelock brushing his eyes was impossibly white. A sword rested at his hip, with a black hilt. The pommel resembled a dragon. A pair of black gloves covered his hands while they rested at his sides.

“Hello,” the stranger said, sounding pleasant enough. “You said you’re going south?”

_Words,_ Keith thought. _Come on, you know them. Say something._

“I...yeah. South. Olkarion.”

The stranger tilted his head to the side. “Really? So are we! Well. That’s where my friend and I are headed, at least. I think the rest are gonna keep moving on.”

_The world must be ending,_ Keith thought. That, or he accidentally took some sort of hallucinogenic drug without realizing it, and it was only just starting to have an effect. This was Keith, after all—he didn’t get any lucky breaks. Only deeper pitfalls when he thought the ground was finally solid. 

“If there’s room for one more person,” Keith said, “I can pay. And—I can help with defense, if something happens.” It was a miracle that he managed to avoid stumbling over any of his sentences.

Something Keith said seemed to light a spark. The stranger’s eyes brightened. “Defense? You’re combat-trained?” His eyes dropped to the small luxite dagger at Keith’s side. 

Suddenly self-conscious, Keith shifted his weight to hide his blade out of sight. “Not sword-fighting,” he explained. “Uh… I’m a fire mage.”

This was the moment where Keith expected him to step away like he had the plague, or to tell him to get lost. Or do both. It was what always happened, anyway. There was no reason for him to anticipate anything otherwise. 

Instead, the stranger’s mouth fell open in surprise. “A mage? That’s incredible! Here—there’s someone I have to introduce you to.”

The next thing Keith knew, the man had a hand on his back. There was a group of people standing only a short length away, and the stranger seemed intent on leading Keith over in their direction. It was so unexpected that he found himself going along with it, as opposed to yanking the stranger’s hand away like he normally would have. 

_He doesn’t even know my name,_ Keith thought. _I don’t think he can introduce me to someone else when he doesn’t know my name._

But that didn’t seem to deter the stranger at all. “Coran,” he called out, “Coran, I need to talk to you for a minute.”

A man—Coran, presumably—with red hair and blue marks under his eyes turned to look in their direction at the sound of the stranger’s voice. He looked every bit the proper nobleman, complete with the neatly-trimmed moustache and well-tailored coat. The way he carried himself was enough to give it away.

“Shiro,” Coran said as he approached them, and Keith finally had a name to pin to the man beside him. “Who is this?”

Shiro gestured to Keith. “He’s headed in the same direction we are and looking for company. And he’s—he said he’s a _mage._ A _fire_ mage.”

The last few words were said in the hushed tones that were usually meant to carry secrets. Keith wasn’t unfamiliar to this—people liked to whisper about abilities like they were a curse. Like they weren’t something they dared to speak about at full volume. But this was… different.

Shiro leaned forward, like he had a valuable artifact to keep from prying eyes. “Coran,” he said, “we have to let him travel with us. You know what Allura said.”

Keith chose that moment to speak up. “Um—I don’t mean to cut in here, but I have a feeling that something else is going on right now. All I’m looking for is a caravan generous enough to let me walk with them for two days.” 

The others looked at him like they were surprised. Keith was going to stand his ground, no matter how handsome this Shiro person was. Olkarion was his destination, and he wasn’t going to travel anywhere else. Not for a while, at least, if things managed to work out. And if they didn’t he’d find another way. 

Coran recovered quickly and pressed a hand over his heart. It was a gesture Keith supposed was meant to be apologetic. When it came to interacting with the wealthier classes—well. Keith avoided it unless it was absolutely necessary. As a result, he had yet to really learn any of their customs. 

“Please forgive us,” he said. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to travel with us, and leave whenever you desire—on one condition. If you’re interested, sir…?”

Oh. The moustache man wanted his name. “Keith. Just—Just Keith.” Hearing anyone try to fix him with a title felt wrong.

Coran repeated it. “Keith. We’ve been looking for you for a time.”

This didn’t sound good. Keith wasn’t new to shady, backdoor deals, or odd strangers acting out lines from a storybook. But they usually didn’t happen at the same time; mostly because Keith never stuck around long enough to find out.

He spent a good moment looking them over—an obviously noble gentleman and a very attractive man with a sword at his side, and who probably knew how to use it. In the background, the others milling about didn’t seem too out of the ordinary. 

Common sense told Keith to turn around and run back the way he came. But these were the first people in a long time who hadn’t cowered in fear at the mention of his magic. It was… well, to be honest, it was a nice change. And Keith was curious. So, even though he knew he probably shouldn’t, Keith crossed his arms over his chest. 

_Besides, it’s only for a few days. After that I’ll never have to see them again if I don’t want to. What could be so bad?_

“I’m listening.”

 

The group found rooms at an inn for the night. Keith didn’t protest. He spent most nights outside somewhere, trying to keep himself warm. The offer of a bed and a real meal wasn’t something he was about to turn down. 

Dinner was a steaming bowl of stew with potatoes (so many potatoes—Keith had never seen anything so beautiful before) bread, and a tankard of beer. He found a seat by a window, away from the rest of the crowd, and made himself comfortable. If Keith wanted to, he could have joined the rest of his newfound group, but he never worked well with people. Eventually he just settled with keeping to himself, and others never bothered to try going out of their way to strike up conversations with him.

Maybe they could sense how something was off about him. Keith still didn’t know how it was so obvious all the time.

The thud of a tankard and clatter of a bowl jerked Keith out of his thoughts. He looked up from the beer in his hands to see Shiro standing above him on the other side of the table.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Tonight seemed to be a night of firsts. Keith stared up at him like a fish. “Um… sure. Go ahead.” He gestured vaguely to the empty seat across from him.

_Weird day,_ he thought. 

Shiro slid into the chair. The motion was smooth and fluid, almost graceful. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Shiro began. “With Coran—he means well. He’s just a bit…”

“Eccentric?” Keith offered

It was enough to make Shiro chuckle. “Yeah. That’s probably pretty accurate. I didn’t mean to startle you. We’ve just been looking a long time for someone with abilities like yours.”

Keith tore his bread in half and dipped one piece into his stew. “Oh, yeah. You’re secret mission, or whatever. Are you ever actually going to tell me about it, or are you just going to keep avoiding it? I’m still waiting for you to cover my eyes with a blindfold and lead me to your secret hideout.”

“I promise we aren’t trying to kidnap you or draw you into some sort of questionable company. But the matters… well, they’re… sensitive. It would be best to discuss them in some place quieter than a busy inn.”

Keith glanced around the room. There were barely enough people to store up a hum of chatter in the background. “I’d hardly call this _busy._ And that doesn’t do much to help your cause.”

“I can’t blame you too much for that,” Shiro relented. “But for whatever my word is worth, I promise it isn’t anything that you’re probably thinking of.”

It was clear that Keith wasn’t going to get any further by prodding. He chose to change the topics instead.

“I saw your sword,” he said, and shoved the bread in his mouth. “Where did you learn how to use it? Unless you just carry it around for show. I hear that’s what the wealthy class like to do for fun.” 

The remark got him another laugh. “I’ve heard something similar, but I couldn’t tell your for sure. And yes, I’ve been trained to fight.”

“So you’re not a noble, too?” Keith asked. “That’s not a surprise, I guess. You’re dressed nice enough.”

Shiro looked down at his shirt—black, with white designs stitched around the collar, and tailored to fit him. That sort of quality came with high prices. 

“I work mostly as a mercenary,” Shiro explained. “But that wasn’t what I was trained as. It isn’t easy work, but lately I managed to come into a bit of luck working with Coran. This job is paying well. Royal coin goes a long way, you know.”

Keith, who had just raised the tankard to his lips and taken a drink, sputtered over his beer. “ _Royal_ coin?” he managed eventually, incredulous. 

“Of course. Coran is Altean—you noticed the markings under his eyes, didn’t you?”

“I… well, sure,” Keith said. “I mean, I saw them. I just didn’t think… You mentioned Allura. Did you mean…”

To be honest, though, Keith should’ve pieced it together sooner. People didn’t usually get tattoos like that for fun, much less ones that glowed blue. Keith wanted to punch himself.

A sigh escaped from Shiro’s lips. “Yes, the Princess herself. But I can’t blame you too much. Alteans are a rare sight this far from Altea, you know. We’ve been traveling together for a while now, and I’ve gotten to know him pretty well. He’s a good man. All I ask is that you give him a chance tomorrow.”

Well, Keith had already agreed to go with them, hadn’t he? And it wasn’t like hearing these people out was going to cost him anything. Still, the fact that Shiro was so determined for him to give them a chance raised a few questions. 

But Keith was nothing if not stubborn. 

He stirred the last of his stew with the spoon. “You said you weren’t trained as a mercenary. Then how did you…”

Shiro never gave Keith a chance to finish getting the sentence out of his mouth. The innkeeper’s wife came by to collect their empty dishes, and Shiro thanked her warmly before pushing back his chair. 

“It’s getting late,” Shiro said, even though it really wasn’t. “Make sure you get some sleep, alright? Coran likes to leave early.”

And with that, Keith was left alone at the table again. Only this time it felt different, partially because there were more questions rattling around in his head than there were answers. And it was nice having someone to hold a conversation with. Shiro joined him for only a brief time—ten minutes at most, maybe—but already the absence made Keith feel lonelier. He didn’t like it much. It was a bad sign.

_Don’t get attached,_ he said to himself. _They can say whatever they want, but no matter how interesting their weird proposition might be, your travel stops at Olkarion. You’ve been on the road long enough._

Keith grabbed his coat off the back of the chair and headed upstairs to try and sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I have spent _over a year_ rewriting this fic. I’ve wanted to do a fantasy au for ages, but no matter what I did, it never seemed like it was working right. I think I finally got it this time.


End file.
